


Can we get a dog daddy?

by bakrstreetboys



Series: Can we get a dog daddy [1]
Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Dad!John, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, dad!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-21 00:16:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9522341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakrstreetboys/pseuds/bakrstreetboys
Summary: 'Sherlock, for the last bloody time, we can't get a dog. The apartments too small for starters, then there's the clients and-''I am aware of the impracticalities however I believe it will be beneficial for Rosie's childhood.'The young girl entered at this point,  walking straight up to Sherlock and making the grabby motion that the detective had learnt to understand as a request to be cuddled. So he picked her up gently, perching her on his hip and wrapping his strong arms around her tiny frame.'Roro,' Sherlock turned his attention to the blonde fluff ball that he held dear. He didn't really like nicknames, they were sentimental and entirely unnecessary, but for Rosie he would make an exception.





	1. Chapter 1

Rosie was still a bit too young to understand everything her dads discussed, especially when they were on one of their cases, chiefly because she was sent downstairs to Mrs Hudson, or to Mollys when they had a client. But she was a smart four year old, and definitely smart enough to know what they were talking about this time.   
'Sherlock, for the last bloody time, we can't get a dog. The apartments too small for starters, then there's the clients and-'  
'I am aware of the impracticalities however I believe it will be beneficial for Rosie's childhood.'  
The young girl entered at this point, walking straight up to Sherlock and making the grabby motion that the detective had learnt to understand as a request to be cuddled. So he picked her up gently, perching her on his hip and wrapping his strong arms around her tiny frame.   
'Roro,' Sherlock turned his attention to the blonde fluff ball that he held dear. He didn't really like nicknames, they were sentimental and entirely unnecessary, but for Rosie he would make an exception. For Rosie, he would do anything.   
'Yeth, daddy.' The young girl was incredibly articulate for her age, but had still inherited the lisp that Sherlock had had when he was a boy.   
'Your daddy and I want to get a dog, what do you think Roro, do you want a little puppy to play with?'   
John couldn't help but smile at the way Sherlock was holding Rosie, one arm wrapped protectively around her, while the other played softly with her hair. He adored the way Sherlocks voice hanged when he spoke to her; filled with nothing but love and adoration - similar to the way the detective spoke to him.   
'Yeth, daddy! Pleath can we get a dog!' The excitement seemed to be too much for her to handle and she jumped up, thankful for Sherlocks reflexes that kept her steady before placing her onto the floor. Her legs were slightly unsteady as she scampered across the floor to John.   
'Are we going to get a dog?'  
She grabbed the folds in Johns nearly ironed trousers, her tiny fists grilling tight, mirroring the fierceness and determination in her eyes, that she'd inherited from perhaps both of her fathers.   
'Well, sweetie. Me and Shelly-' Sherlock hid his grin in a frown at the nickname that John had picked up from his daughter after her not being able to pronounce his name properly.   
'Would love to get a dog, but i don't think there's enough room-'  
'It can thleep in my bed daddy pleeeath!'  
John found himself unable to refuse those innocent hopeful eyes, and he scowled at his best friend, picking up his daughter and throwing her into the air, causing the blonde girl to cry out happily.   
'Yes we can get a dog.'  
He was interrupted by a loud peal of laughter from Rosie, and a delighted smile from Sherlock, and he found himself deciding that the latter was perhaps the larger reward.  
He cuddled Rosie close, listening to the soft sounds of her breathing, muffled slightly by the thumb in her mouth.   
'I think it might be time for bed, Roro.' Sherlock came over to his daughter, ticking a stray curl behind her ear.   
'Do you want to take her, or shall I?'  
Sherlock asked softly, not wanting to excite the young girl again.  
'You take her, I need to sort out her clothes for nursery tomorrow.'  
He pried the girl off of his shoulder, carefully handing her to the detective, who smiled softly as Rosie nuzzled into his shoulder.   
'Thank you.' He said softly, turning to look at John, who was now walking towards the kitchen.   
'For what?'  
'The dog.'  
'I think I might have been tickled to death if I disagreed.'  
Sherlock grinned to himself, leaving the room and entering her bedroom, the one that used to be Johns, and tucking her into bed. He kissed her softly and watched her cuddle her teddy (a small hedgehog with a pirates eyepatch).  
After heading back into the lounge, he sat down next to John, tucking his arm behind the doctors shoulders and allowing him to rest his head on Sherlocks chest. They'd become much more relaxed about contact in the past few years. There was now nothing to stop them from doing so, and they were happy like this.  
'Twice.' Sherlock suddenly announced after a few minutes on comfortable silence.  
'What the bloody hell are you on about?' John mumbled sleepily from his place in the crook of Sherlocks neck.  
'Tickled to death twice.'


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week has passed and John was becoming increasingly confused. Since he'd agreed (some some reason he still wasn't sure of) to get this dog, he'd been noticing things that he hadn't before noticed.  
> After morning back in together, ye pair had become increasingly affectionate with eachother, simply because now there was no reason not to, and they were comfortable with eachother.  
> They'd hold hands on the sofa as they watched TV on a Sunday night, or John would rest his head on Sherlocks chest as they laid in the bed they now shared. It was all utterly platonic of course. Of course. After 7 years, it would be weird if it wasn't.

A week has passed and John was becoming increasingly confused. Since he'd agreed (some some reason he still wasn't sure of) to get this dog, he'd been noticing things that he hadn't before noticed.  
After morning back in together, ye pair had become increasingly affectionate with eachother, simply because now there was no reason not to, and they were comfortable with eachother.  
They'd hold hands on the sofa as they watched TV on a Sunday night, or John would rest his head on Sherlocks chest as they laid in the bed they now shared. It was all utterly platonic of course. Of course. After 7 years, it would be weird if it wasn't.  
But John had been observing things he hadn't been before. Maybe living with Sherlock had taking its toll and John was finally taking the detectives advice and 'living observantly'. But somehow he thought not. Because it was just Sherlock. He hadn't noticed anything else out of the ordinary, just how Sherlocks had fell slightly differently on Tuesday, or how good Sherlocks legs had looked when he was walking Rosie to nursery, the child sitting precariously on his bony shoulders.  
John thought that maybe, just maybe, he was falling in love. And in an ideal world, he'd tell Sherlock and they'd be officially together. Things would be the same as before, but maybe he could sneak in a goodnight kiss if he felt like it, or hold the others hand on one of their cases.  
But he couldn't, he knew that for sure. Because it wasn't just him. If Sherlock didn't feel the same way, things would never be the same, and as broken as he would be by that, he would not risk disrupting Rosie's future. And so he stayed quiet, he resisted the urge to interlock his fingers with Sherlocks when they were out, and he tried to act as though everything was normal. But Sherlock Holmes was a consulting detective, and damn him if he couldn't deduce what was wrong with his John.  
'Daddy!'  
Sherlock awoke with a start, his eyes automatically going to John to check everything was ok, before noticing the child shaped lump that was sat on his bare chest.  
'Roro, what are you doing? It's 5:30am.'  
'How on earth did you know that?' A muffled voice came from underneath the warm duvet.  
Sherlock smiled softly in the knowledge that he could wake up to that voice every morning.  
'Position of the sun relative to the angle of the curtains and the reflection of the-'  
'Daddy!'  
Rosie's attention quickly went from the tousled dark curls on Sherlocks head, to Johns back, jumping up and down until the doctor rolled over and enveloped her in his arms.  
'Sweetie, as lovely as this cuddle is, why are you awake this early?'  
'We get doggie day!'  
John chuckled quietly at her innocent excitement; his grin spreading as he saw it mirrored on Sherlocks face.  
'Yes we are baby, but not til later.'  
Her face dropped, tears beginning to form in her sleepy eyes, and John looked to Sherlock for help - he was always better in these situations than he was.  
He picked Rosie up, supporting her carefully as he stepped out of bed. John watched the muscles in his back move as he did so, and felt a flush creep up his neck. Feigning morning fatigue, he hid under covers, feeling like a teenager again, getting hard over such an insignificant detail.  
He could hear Sherlock muttering softly to Rosie, and shouted out before the taller man could fully exit the room:  
'Bring me coffee!'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!!! next chapter will include them buying the dog and the chapter after that will skip forward in time and include more children (will and scottie) then there will be a marriage at some point.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John honestly couldn't decide who was more excited and he found that adorable. He caught up with the pair and intertwined his fingers with Sherlock. Although the action was a small one, it was a huge step for John, they'd never done anything (knowingly) to suggest they were a couple in public before. Heck, if they didn't know, how were they meant to tell other people?   
> Sherlock looked down at their hands, squeezing his nimble fingers gently.

If Sherlock believe in God, this is what heaven had to be like. Dogs filled the entire room; big ones, small ones, fluffy ones, yapping ones. He'd walked into the pet shop with Rosie on his hip, the pair ecstatic as they ran from kennel to kennel, exclaiming at the cuteness of the different breeds. People turned and looked, unable to conceal their smile - the joy was contagious. No one could help but grin at the tall handsome man with tiny blonde daughter, and his boyfriend trudging along behind, a reluctant grin on his weathered face.   
John honestly couldn't decide who was more excited and he found that adorable. He caught up with the pair and intertwined his fingers with Sherlock. Although the action was a small one, it was a huge step for John, they'd never done anything (knowingly) to suggest they were a couple in public before. Heck, if they didn't know, how were they meant to tell other people?   
Sherlock looked down at their hands, squeezing his nimble fingers gently. His smile grew impossibly larger and his step seemed to gain a certain bounce that John was positive he'd never seen before (except maybe when he'd solved the 'Beauticians Glasses' case. It had taken more than three weeks in Brighton for the case to be solved, and John had spent most of that time in the gay bar next to the hotel they were staying in, and there were numerous nights he still didn't remember. From what he knew about the case, the beauticians glasses had deemed her innocent due to the range of the shot, and the fact she'd broken her glasses the previous day, meaning her vision would have been impaired and she wouldn't have made the shot. But what had stood out to John about that particular case, was what occurred in between the excursions the spa and Scotland Yard. But this was not the time nor the place to be thinking about that).  
'Daddy!'  
'Yes, honey?'  
He took the little girl from his boyfriend- uh friend. The detective turned his head slightly, almost as though to kiss the other, but remembered where he was, and what he was doing, and what fucking planet he was on, and kept his head up, pretending to look towards the sausage dogs in the corner.   
Rosie fidgeted with impatience, grabbing her dads attention once more.   
'Daddy, we want arday.'  
'Arday? What's that mean, baby?'  
'She means Airedale.'  
Sherlock, who had previously disappeared, returned, in his arms, a tiny, fluffy, adorable puppy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock awoke to John sitting up violently, shaking and breathing heavily. The detective was accustomed to his friends night terrors, and silently pulled the doctor back down into a laying position, taking him in his arms, and pressing his front against the smallers back. This always calmed John down, and within minutes the pair where back asleep.

John awoke with a start. Sweating and panting harshly after a nightmare like the ones he used to get nightly before he'd met Sherlock. But this time, Sherlock was there with him on the battlefield, falling backwards in slow motion after a likely fatal shot to the chest. John had turned to meet Mary's smiling face, a gun in her hand.   
John sat up, trying to shake the nightmare from his sleepy mind, forgetting that his best friend was asleep next to him.  
Sherlock awoke to John sitting up violently, shaking and breathing heavily. The detective was accustomed to his friends night terrors, and silently pulled the doctor back down into a laying position, taking him in his arms, and pressing his front against the smallers back. This always calmed John down, and within minutes the pair where back asleep.   
They were awoken an hour later by the sound of a yapping four year old Airedale dog named Hamish. The dog joined the two on the bed, licking at their faces until the two were awake, albeit slightly damp.   
Rosie joined John and Sherlock on the bed, followed by her adopted brothers Will and Scottie, and sister Martha.   
After Rosie had joined primary school, the pair had missed a young presence around the house, and Sherlock had, surprisingly, found himself enjoying the attention that young children always gave him. They'd adopted Will first, and at the age of 8 he was the oldest the two had. His full name was William Harry Holmes-Watson, and his love for dancing matched that of his adoptive fathers. Rosie was the second oldest, she was now 6, and was already greatly enjoying rugby club on a saturday morning.   
They'd adopted Scottie (Scott Mycroft Holmes-Watson) next, he was 4 and his curly blonde curls matched those of John when he was the same age.   
And last of all was little Martha. The little ginger cutie was just 2, and the pair hadn't exactly planned on adopting her. It had happened on a case, actually. 'The Black Hat.'  
A client had come to 221B Baker Street on a dull Tuesday afternoon, her hair greying with age and eyes that could look right through you, into your soul. She'd come in claiming her daughter had been kidnapped: a young ginger girl who carried an ancient teddy. The genius known as Sherlock Holmes had solved the case in a matter of days: the black hat worn by the client had held the fingerprints of a small child, along with tiny ginger hairs. The hat had been recently damaged as well - a small section of the felt torn slightly. The action had been deliberate, however not much damage had been done, meaning the perpetrator couldn't have had much strength. The only solution of all the facts: the 'missing daughter.' Now according to the client, the child had been missing for two weeks, but the hat couldn't have been damaged more than a couple days ago. And so from there, all the pair had needed to do was trail the woman until they found where she had been keeping the daughter, and had come to the conclusion that the mother was schizophrenic.   
The girl had been left without a parent, and John couldn't bear to see the girl alone in a children's home, and so the pair had offered to take her in. She had no legal name, and her mother was unreachable due to her new home: the psychiatric ward at the hospital where she was allowed no contact with anyone beside her nurses. So John and Sherlock decided to name the girl in memory of their late housekeeper.   
Martha Violet Holmes-Watson slept in her parents room, while Will, Scottie and Rosie shared the other bedroom. The flat was currently a mess, a renovation was underway, to create two new bedrooms for the children. Sherlock and John couldn't be happier, or so they thought.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shortly after Martha's 5th birthday, after a long night together discussing anything and everything, the two had kissed. It had been 4:21am, and John had been curled on his side, looking at Sherlocks fascinating eyes, while the latter ran his fingers comfortingly up and down Johns arm. The doctor had lifted his hand to fiddle with the detectives gorgeous curls, when a mutual decision was made. The kiss was soft and short and far from perfect. But it was everything.   
> After that, the two hadn't discussed a relationship, nor had they told anyone they were dating, they'd simply become more openly affection towards eachother. Simple hand holding in public led to a quick peck on the cheek. Innocent kisses led to some that the two decided not to perform in front of their children.   
> John mulled this over in his head as he let his gaze fix on the sculpted body with dark curls that lay on the beach. John chuckled silently to himself, deciding that now was the time. He sent the text.

The air was warm and balmy, and Sherlock was not having as much fun as he probably should be. He was in Spain with John, on a short holiday that the shorter man had insisted on, despite the detectives protests. He lay on the sand, mildly enjoying the heat, however despising the sand that stuck to his sweaty back, or the frustrating, irregular noise of the waves that crashed behind him.   
His body may appear calm from the outside, but his mind, as always, was at constant work. However this time, not on a case. He couldn't get this thought out of his head: why had John decided to do this? The man was a frugal one, and disliked any unnecessary spending. He didn't find contentedness in heat after his time spent in Afghanistan, so what could be his meaning for this surprise trip?   
John sat in the small cafe next to the beach, his third coffee cup empty, and his fingers twiddling nervously. He'd been planning this trip for months. Martha, Scottie, Rosie and Will were staying with Molly and Greg, and were probably being spoilt rotten. They were here, and John had the ring, everything was ready, but he was so nervous that every time he thought he'd built up the nerve to do it, he'd chickened out. Shortly after Martha's 5th birthday, after a long night together discussing anything and everything, the two had kissed. It had been 4:21am, and John had been curled on his side, looking at Sherlocks fascinating eyes, while the latter ran his fingers comfortingly up and down Johns arm. The doctor had lifted his hand to fiddle with the detectives gorgeous curls, when a mutual decision was made. The kiss was soft and short and far from perfect. But it was everything.   
After that, the two hadn't discussed a relationship, nor had they told anyone they were dating, they'd simply become more openly affection towards eachother. Simple hand holding in public led to a quick peck on the cheek. Innocent kisses led to some that the two decided not to perform in front of their children.   
John mulled this over in his head as he let his gaze fix on the sculpted body with dark curls that lay on the beach. John chuckled silently to himself, deciding that now was the time. He sent the text.   
Two hours later, and Sherlock was pacing frustratingly. A case has arisen as soon as he'd fallen asleep. Maybe the beach wasn't so bad after all.   
He now stood still next to John, his brain seemed to be malfunctioning, and it definitely had nothing to do with the way Johns hand was protectively wrapped around his waist, or the tiny smirk that adorned his beautiful mouth. In front of him lay a blue bonnet, a dogs collar, a rugby ball, a violin bow, a pair of point shoes, and a small black velvet box, with the initials W.S.S.H.W.   
Sherlock recognised something about each of the items, but his brain was still incapable of thought, beyond the feel of Johns lips on his neck. But he wasn't going to be fooled that easily.  
'This was you, wasn't it?'  
John made a happy, yet non committal noise, and he continued sucking at Sherlocks neck.  
'I'm not an idiot you know. The.. uh, bonnet. Well that's Martha's.'  
'Correct.' The deduction earned the detective a small kiss, before John was back to running his hands all over Sherlocks chest.   
'The bow is Scotties.'   
Another kiss, deeper this time.  
'R..Rugby ball, Rosie's.'   
'Have you lost the ability to use verbs?' John quipped from behind Sherlocks ear.   
Sherlock, always having to have the last word, retorted with equal fire.   
'It's not exactly easy to concentrate on speech when you're standing there.'  
'Never seemed to bother you before.'  
Sherlock closed his eyes and took a deep breath before replying.  
'Well you weren't doing... that before. And... I don't have to hide this kind of thing anymore.'  
John heart fluttered a little, and he kissed Sherlocks lips softly.  
'What about the others?' He said, gesturing to the other objects that lay in front of them.   
'Fine, the shoes are Wills, and the collar is obviously H..Hamishs.'  
Sherlocks voice broke on the last word when John bit down on his neck, the doctors hands tight on his hips.   
'And the last one?'  
John was beginning to feel nervous again, but he hid his face well in Sherlocks neck.   
Sherlock actually stepped away from his boyfriend at this point, stepping forward to pick up the box. John actions caught up with his mind a moment later, and he snatched the box back.  
'Um.. you're not allowed to look inside. You've, uh, got to solve it first.'  
'Solve what?' The detectives confused expression was honestly adorable, and John had to restrain himself from just dropping to one knee right then.  
'What it is, what's in it.' John replied softly, trying to figure out Sherlocks thoughts from his expression. He took great pride in knowing that he was the only one who could do this.   
'Well it's clearly a box for a wedding ring.'   
Without Johns distractions now, Sherlock could fully concentrate, and John watched him make his deductions with a wary eye.  
'And the initials are incredibly similar to mine, but there's an extra W on the end.'  
'Watson.' John took a deep breath.  
'What?'  
'William Sherlock Scott Holmes-Watson.' John dropped to one knee, his hands trembling and his heart racing.  
'Marry me?'


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Sherlock,' John had managed to coax the detective back onto the sofa, and now sat next to him, their fingers intertwined.  
> 'I know that you are trying to distract me from being bored, and I appreciate it, however it isn't going to work.'   
> John, of course, took this as a invitation to distract Sherlock as much as he possibly could, with an arsenal of methods. The doctor played with Sherlocks hair, earning a contented sigh from the latter that he tried so hard to conceal. He progressed to peppering light kisses all over Sherlocks face and neck, which, again, the detective attempted to ignore. He found this impossible, however, when John turned to straddle him, and kissed him slowly and deeply, fed up with teasing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a cute filler chapter with a lot of fluff because it's VALENTINES DAY. And for the first time ever, i have a boyfriend, but i'm in holiday so i can't see him and that makes me rly sad. ANYWAY ENJOY

Sherlock was crouched on the sofa. His hands were steepled beneath his chin and his eyes were squinted, his face a look of pure concentration. He stared down at the folded napkins on the floor, the designs split evenly between swan and Sydney Opera House.   
It was the first thing, unsurprisingly, that John noticed as he entered the flat, keys dangling from in between his teeth, and multiple shopping bags digging grooves in his fingers. He staggered over to the kitchen and dumped all six bags on the counter, swearing softly as the lettuce tumbled out the bag and onto the floor.  
'Sherlock, what the hell are you-'  
'Swan or Opera House?' Sherlock interrupted swiftly, not looking up from the hand folded napkins.   
'Um, swan?'  
Sherlock leapt up from the sofa, expertly avoiding the napkins, and walked over to the kitchen, stopping briefly to kiss his fiancé.  
'Knew you'd say that.'  
John rolled his eyes, and sat down at his desk, opening up the battered laptop that he'd owned for all these years.  
'If you knew I'd choose that one, why'd you ask?'   
Opening the fridge violently, the detective huffed in a frustrated state.  
'Bored!'   
Since the couple were now father to four amazing children, Sherlock had had to cease his experiments. They'd made that mistake the first time, when a severed finger had somehow ended up in Rosie's lunchbox rather than her usual carrot sticks.   
After entirely renovating the apartment last year, the family now has much more room. With Mrs Hudson gone, and the other apartment empty, the Holmes-Watsons had taken over the entire building. It had an odd layout, to fit an odd family.   
The original 221B apartment was still intact, with two bedrooms, a cramped kitchen, one bathroom, and the famous dining room/ living room/ study/ the room with holes in the wall and a skull on the mantelpiece. Sherlock and John shared one room, while Martha and Rosie shared the other (much to Rosie's disappointment, in her words 'an 11 year old girl needs her own space Daddy!').   
Will and Scottie shared the other bedroom downstairs, which was next to the spare room and the study.  
'Sherlock,' John had managed to coax the detective back onto the sofa, and now sat next to him, their fingers intertwined.  
'I know that you are trying to distract me from being bored, and I appreciate it, however it isn't going to work.'   
John, of course, took this as a invitation to distract Sherlock as much as he possibly could, with an arsenal of methods. The doctor played with Sherlocks hair, earning a contented sigh from the latter that he tried so hard to conceal. He progressed to peppering light kisses all over Sherlocks face and neck, which, again, the detective attempted to ignore. He found this impossible, however, when John turned to straddle him, and kissed him slowly and deeply, fed up with teasing. Sherlock kissed back, bringing his hands up to Johns hips, and lovingly giving him the attention the latter had been hoping for the whole time.   
The two kissed for a while, just enjoying the feel of each others lips, hands slowly roaming familiar skin, tiny gasps and moans escaping every now and then.   
This stopped, of course, when their thirteen year old son entered the room, a scowl on his face (presumably from the maths test he'd had at school).   
'Dad! What the hell?'  
The two pulled apart quickly, almost laughing at the irony: the parents making out on the sofa, while the teenager scolds them.   
The other children filed into the lounge, eleven year old Rosie, in the same uniform as her older brother. Nine year old Scottie followed, his red jumper matching that of seven year old Marthas.  
The parents now sat comfortably next to eachother, and thanked Molly for dropping the children off, ignoring the smirk she directed at the two of them before she kissed each child, and left.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Before today, I had never made a vow in my life. And after today, i never will again. But it's you John Watson, always you. You keep me right. You are sitting next to the man who loves you most in this world. My vow to you is that I will always be here and I will never let you down and I've got a lifetime to prove it.'

The weather was surprisingly warm for January. The sky was overcast and grey, but there was no rain, no wind. It had been eighteen years since John Watson and Sherlock Holmes had moved in together, and now the pair stood together in matching suits, Sherlocks shirt a dark purple, where Johns was plaid: blue and green. Their choice of clothing may not be conventional, but it suited them to the T. Their hands were intertwined, and tears began to form in the ears of the entire congregation as the sound of Wills violin playing one of Sherlocks pieces filled the hall.   
The ceremony went quickly, handwritten vows were exchanged, and mothers and fathers alike shared watery glances. The weather turned colder, a few flakes of snow falling outside, and before it had even begun to settle, everyone was leaving the venue, and piling into multiple cars.   
The evening meal swept by in a rush of champagne, small talk, and more champagne. And before Sherlock knew it, it was time for speeches.   
'Before today, I had never made a vow in my life. And after today, i never will again. But it's you John Watson, always you. You keep me right. You are sitting next to the man who loves you most in this world. My vow to you is that I will always be here and I will never let you down and I've got a lifetime to prove it.'  
The room was tearful, but John's face was entirely crumpled as he abruptly stood up, enveloping Sherlock in a tight hug. Sherlock went to continue with his speech, but John shushed him, and the two stayed in a warm embrace until Greg heckled at the two to:  
'Finish the damn speech and get a room!'  
The two pulled apart reluctantly, John sitting back down, while Sherlock continued with the speech: reeling off funny stories about his husband, stories about their adventures, stories about their children, and stories about them - just them.   
The rest of the evening was pleasant, the first dance went perfectly, others danced happily and chatted freely until the sun had long set.   
The venue was quiet. Guests had long since left in taxis, or by train. John and Sherlock were left alone on top of the building, talking softly, cold hands intertwined, sharing kisses every now and again. Stars shine brightly overhead, and the moon illuminated the couples happy faces. They kissed softly and slowly until the sun began to rise, the light warm and glowing, the air crisp and delightful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry these are all so SHORT but i have no time at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, next chapter should be up this week. Also DOGS.  
> (i don't know bbc sherlock or any of the characters mentioned)


End file.
